And then she jerked as he drew her to him and cupped her breast with his right hand. Her eyes popped and her jaw dropped."Matthew!"She tried to squirm...away but he held on tight."Matthew! Let me go!" she pleaded. He did, and she stumbled away, surprised and confused, on top of embarrassed and flummoxed. Her son had just cupped her left breast. It felt like his hand was still there, holding her. Face red and hot, underarms itching like mad, she wanted to slink away, hunch-shouldered to her. It was while returning from a trip to the mens room that I spied her sitting by herself at a small table in the corner. She was a stunning brunette dressed as a French maid. As I drew closer I could see that her costume was not some cheap garment made of polyester or silk, it was made from shiny vinyl. I approached her table and gave a slight bow and introduced myself. "I am the Phantom or Opera Ghost if you prefer." "I'm Lana the upstairs maid," she responded with a smile, "May one join you?". More

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